TMNT: Strain
by princessebee
Summary: 2k14 Raphril. April's triumph at finding the lair by herself was short-lived. Not only did she fall flat on her butt, Raphael was there to witness it. But could she really claim all that light-headedness was just down to the fall? Swears and sexual references.


_Prompted by a nonny mouse on tumblr._

**ooo**

April pushed against the heavy iron of the tunnel door and it slowly swung inwards to reveal the dojo, quiet and dark. Smirking triumphantly to herself – the boys had been insisting she have an escort to and from the lair, but she _knew_ she knew the way by now – she swung her legs over the side and readied for the drop.

Right before she pushed off, she glanced down and realised just how _high_ up she was and the split second of hesitation was enough for her to lose her balance and plummet awkwardly to the stone below, the impact ricocheting through one ankle so sharply it brought tears to her eyes.

"Goddamnit!"

She was sprawled gracelessly on her butt on the cold stone floor of the dojo, her asscheeks stinging and that damn ankle throbbing like fire. April snorted, disgusted with herself as much to suppress the wave of nausea the pain and shock had provoked as for her stupidity, and smoothed her hair back from her face with both hands, a little surprised to find herself in a clammy sweat.

"Nice one, O'Neil," the blackly amused voice made her jump in alarm and cast a sweeping gaze across the dojo that had seemed so still and silent when she had entered. "But only a six point five. At best."

She saw him then, at the opposite end of the octagonal room, sitting partly in shadow, cross-legged and rebinding the grip of his sai with strips of leather, an unmistakeable smirk on his lips as he watched her, his huge hands continuing their task in smooth motion honed by years of practice.

April sniffed and struggled to reclaim her dignity, rolling carefully onto her knees and ignoring the stabbing pain in her ankle that was shrieking for her attention. She knelt up, dusting her hands off on the legs of her jeans. "If I'd known I was being graded I would've chucked a half-gainer in there for you." Truth to tell, she felt a little giddy but she wasn't about to give that away.

He chuckled at her sass and carefully laid his weapons aside, rising effortlessly to his feet and following the raised platform around to where she knelt, trying to work up the courage - and trying not to show it - to stand up.

"I didn't know anyone was in here. How do you even do that?"

He rolled his eyes a little as he came up to her, hulking but silent, the taut muscles of his thighs gliding beneath his scaled flesh, gesturing to his plastron with an immense finger. "Ninja," he said, the timbre of his voice underscored with an unuttered 'duh'. He stopped in front of her and cocked his head, looking down at her with a wry expression, towering over her like a pillar of muscle and bone. "Yannow there's a ladder right there, right?" He jerked his head toward the tunnel entrance and she looked. Sure enough, affixed to the stone wall right by the opening, was a sturdy rope ladder. April felt her cheeks grow hot.

"No. I didn't know," she replied peevishly. How could she have? One of the guys always lifted her down. She'd assumed that jumping was the only way.

He snorted a little laugh and folded his colossal arms over his plastron, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Well, now ya do. Leo will flip when he finds out you came down here by yourself, you know."

April couldn't resist. Looking directly up into his smirking face, she cocked a brow and smartly replied: "He's the boss of you, not me."

"Ohhh," Raphael was in a good mood clearly, cos he grinned big, baring all those enormous rough teeth even as he feigned stung recoil with a tilt of the head and a squint of his eyes. "Touché". Then he extended a hand, the leathery, mottled green palm turned towards her. "Here."

It was tempting to take his hand, to feel the enormous appendage enclose hers so completely and the callouses rub roughly over her more delicate flesh. Tempting to once again experience the impossible, effortless strength of him handling her. But April felt humiliated enough for one day.

"It's fine," she waved him off dismissively and he dropped his arm and took a step backwards, watching her with an air of placid expectation as she placed the foot of her uninjured ankle on the stone and braced her weight against her thigh with both hands, then pushed herself up.

The second she tried to put any weight on her other foot however, the pain splintered up her leg like lightning and she toppled forward, unable to help the little cry that ripped from her lips.

"Woah." He was instantly there, his immense hands cupping her shoulders and holding her steady as April grit her teeth and swallowed hard, once again fighting nausea and still trying not to let on just how bad it hurt.

She opened her eyes to find him hunched over, peering into her face with a concern that softened all those rugged features, and when her stomach fluttered, she told herself it was still just the pain.

"I might need a little help getting into the den," she admitted reluctantly.

One corner of Raphael's mouth twitched and he swivelled to the side, stooping to wrap an arm around her waist, prompting her arm to slide up his for her hand to rest on his shoulder, unable to help noticing the firmness of the muscle and the rippling pattern of his scales and scars beneath her fingertips. "Only if you're sure it won't bruise your pride," he said, his voice just edged with mockery. She grimaced and gave his plastron a little shove.

"Like you can talk, tough guy."

He chuckled and they began a limping path towards the den. As if the enormous closeness of Raphael weren't enough cause for consternation, April found it almost impossible to put any weight on her foot at all, capable only of hopping, a jerking motion that caused pain to shoot through her injured foot every single time and she grit her teeth hard and determined not to even grunt.

She wasn't fooling Raphael though, who abruptly stopped and sighed as though irritated. "'S taking too damn long," he grumbled, not meeting her eye before bending and scooping her up in a swift, effortless movement that left her breathless. April's stomach tipped upside down and she clutched at his shoulders, trying not to focus on how weightless she felt in his arms. Studiously not looking at her, Raphael lumbered on towards the den, his mouth set in a firm line that might've tempted her to tease were she not struggling to quash the butterflies that flitted in her belly, trying to ignore how one big hand curled right around the crook of her knee, the fingertips of the other pressing gently into her side. All around her she could feel the press of his firm muscle cushioning her body and her breast flattened against his plastron. This close, she couldn't escape the scent of him – strong, masculine, underscored lightly with sweat and leather. She found it distinctly pleasant and breathed him in deeper before she could catch herself. Despite how nonchalant his stride, he cradled her carefully and with such ease that her groin unexpectedly tightened and she inhaled sharply through her nostrils and stared with as much studied nonchalance to watch their passage as he did.

By the time they were in the den the silence between them had become distinct and awkward. As though they both realised it at once, their eyes met and Raphael cleared his throat a little.

"Uh, we should probably take a look at it," he said raspily and April nodded quickly, tearing her eyes quickly from the liquid gold of his. She felt the flush on her cheeks and hoped it wasn't visible, although Raphael had once again turned his face away, towards the long benchtop he was headed towards.

At that moment, Donatello emerged quietly from his laboratory, absently chewing on a chunk of salami, schematics of something or other clutched in his other hand, heading towards the fleet of monitors that framed his computer station. Raphael stopped abruptly at sight of him and April glanced up, noticing the way a vein was suddenly prominent and rigid in his neck. Donatello glanced over at them.

"Oh hi – oh. Hi," Donatello's voice changed slightly as he took in the sight, taking on a timbre of mild awkwardness and curiosity and April felt Raphael's arms around her tighten as he tensed.

"She hurt her ankle," he spat by way of explanation, unrequested. Why did he sound as caught out as she felt – and what exactly had they been caught out doing anyway?

Donatello's expression cleared. "Ah," he said easily. "No problem, I'll take a look at it."

"No,"

April and Donatello both were surprised by the ferocity with which Raphael spoke and when two startled gazes turned to him, his eyes darted about nervously for an instant before he gritted his jaw and adjusted his voice to a more even tone. "I can handle it."

Donatello's brow ridges lifted high above the rim of his glasses but he acquiesced with an indifferent tilt of the head. "Okay then."

Then he carefully turned his back on them and continued toward his computer.

Moments later, Raphael was gently placing April on the benchtop, the trailing ends of his mask brushing her cheek as he did so, eliciting a tickle that made her nipples harden, adding to the consternation she was experiencing. What the hell was even going on here? She thought perhaps Raphael's fingertips lingered on the small of her back an instant too long but then he withdrew and she felt curiously cold without the strong cradle of his arms about her.

The earlier snarky easiness between them was gone as he fetched the first aid kit and returned, carefully not looking at her. Now the air was fraught with tension, the cause of which April did not yet let herself dare name. She tapped her fingers too-casually on the benchtop, looking nervously around the lair as Raphael pulled up one of the many makeshift chairs with specially curved backs for accommodating shells and sat in front of her, his shoulders hunched over, face set in an expression so disproportionately grim she might've laughed had her chest not been so tight.

Gently, so gently, he lifted her injured foot onto his lap and finally glanced at her again to check her expression. The searching concern in his eye was so unexpectedly vulnerable that April tingled all over.

"That okay?" he queried his usually rough voice soft.

Unable to speak, April nodded.

His huge fingers slipped up beneath the cuff of her jeans, one hand carefully cupping her calf, the other finding the zip on her boot. Despite the leather between their flesh, April felt the impression of his fingertips, gently caressing even as the strength of his hand held her steady, and gooseflesh swept upwards, prickling her skin all the way along her inner thigh straight to her centre. Raphael's expression was still with concentration as he tugged gently at the zip and she felt the teeth part and give way, opening to his touch, and in her mind's eye the image was so suggestive she abruptly flinched, overwhelmed by the sensations now flooding her body.

Raphael halted and looked at her quickly. "Too much?"

April was suddenly anxious he would notice the flush on her cheeks, how her nipples strained at the fabric of her tee-shirt, even beneath the jacket she still wore. _Get it together, O'Neil_, she scolded herself furiously, and she sat up straighter and tossed her hair back over her shoulders. She thought she caught a glimpse of something in his eye as she did that, but then it was carefully masked again and she looked him straight in the face with her chin high.

"It's fine. I'm just being a big baby, don't worry about it."

He sniffed, cracked his neck, and looked back down at her foot. "I'm just a little worried it could be broken."

With a care that bordered on the tender, he eased her boot from her foot and her thoughts were distracted from the heat of his touch and the ripple of his muscles by the painful throbbing that overwhelmed her.

April dug her fingertips into the benchtop and ground her teeth as Raphael gently turned her foot this way and that, closely examining it. Then, he began to press carefully at different angles, asking her each time if it hurt, regularly flicking his gaze to her face to assess her reaction.

"Didn't know you knew all this stuff," she commented lightly, struggling to restore normalcy when she could feel anything but, watching those enormous, powerful but impossibly gentle hands examine her so carefully. Those hands dwarfed her foot and she knew, if he wanted, he could crush all the bones in it to powder with barely the effort of one. But he handled it as though it were made of glass, priceless and rare, and once again April's heart began to pound and in her loins there pulsed liquid fire.

Raphael's thick lips pursed together and he shrugged a little. "We all gotta know." Then an abrupt look of caution arrested his features as though something had just occurred to him. "But I can go get Donnie if you want." His tone was offhand but guarded, his gaze on her foot a little too focused and she hastened to reassure him.

"No, no," she hurried and without thinking laid a hand on his shoulder, starting a little at the feel of the textured skin against her palm, not missing how her touch made him stiffen. "I trust you."

She thought he fought back a little smile to hear that but then he'd swivelled his head to the first aid kit, plucking out a thick roll of gauze.

"Just a strain," he decided. "I'll wrap it up for ya. Then you should probably elevate it for a while. You didn't have any other plans for the evenin', right?" He cocked a brow ridge and tilted his head, a wry smirk half-tugging his lips.

Her own lips twitched and a sense of intoxicating captivation with him suddenly swelled inside her in response to his look , an urge to stay as close by him as possible and bask in that feeling totally irresistible. Even if she could've walked, she wouldn't have left. There was nothing on earth right then that appealed to her more than the opportunity to be near Raphael for a long, uninterrupted while. She found herself squeezing his shoulder, enjoying how the pebbled flesh felt against her fingertips and caught the flicker in his eyes even as he boldly held her gaze. _He feels it too._ She was sure.

"Nope," she replied. And as he dropped his gaze back to her foot and began to bind it with the bandage, April allowed her eyes to rove across his sculpted figure, appreciating anew the unique beauty of all that muscle and scar tissue, bony plating and mottled green skin, his thick lips and dark golden eyes a deep well of fascination she felt on the verge of drowning in.

"Keep me company?" She prompted him and again he turned his eyes upwards, his face split by that easy, relaxed smile she loved to see best.

"'Course," he replied and this time April did not question the flutter of her heart, merely enjoyed the thrill.


End file.
